


Every Chain Must Break

by TheyDraggedMeInNowIAintLeaving



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Dean Winchester, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Dean and Castiel are mates, Destiel Harlequin Challenge 2017, Everybody's a werewolf - just go with it, Implied Child Abuse, M/M, M/M Sex, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Castiel, Omega Castiel/Alpha Dean Winchester, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Vague Allusions to Plot, Werewolves, destielharlequinchallenge, no sexual abuse, various non-penetrative sexacts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-07-22
Packaged: 2018-12-05 06:44:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11572554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheyDraggedMeInNowIAintLeaving/pseuds/TheyDraggedMeInNowIAintLeaving
Summary: Castiel's only worth is how much an alpha might be willing to pay for him.Dean was just having dinner with his brother and sister-in-lawThe rest, as they say, is history.





	Every Chain Must Break

**Author's Note:**

> This is my ~~(very late)~~ contribution to the [Destiel Harlequin Challenge](https://destielharlequinchallenge.tumblr.com/).  
>  I hope that this isn't a one time thing, and now I just look forward to reading the other contributions :)
> 
> This is mostly unbetaed and not really proof read so feel free to point out any glaring errors and I'll consider correcting them when I've slept for three days. As always comments and constructive critisim is welcome

_If there was one thing Castiel Novak was used to, it was being a disappointment. He had the practice: after all he’d been one since birth, at least where his father and brother were concerned._

_It had been different - before his mother died and draped the entire household in a black veil of sorrow that his father never managed to move past - and Castiel vaguely remembered happier times._  
_A woman’s bright smile as she wrapped him in a soft blanket; the faint smell of roses on his cheek where hers had brushed against his skin while hugging him tightly before tucking him in._  
_Sometimes, just before the sun peaked over the horizon and Castiel still held firmly onto his residence in the fuzzy land between sleep and wakefulness, he could almost fool himself into thinking the faint scent of roses was still lingering in the air._

 _Her death brought changes to the family, and far sooner than any child should learn, Castiel was taught the harsh lesson of how hope and happiness are fickle things only meant for people of a certain standing._  
_Castiel could scream and complain but eventually the palms of his father’s hands and the length of his belt left enough marks on the boy’s skin that he stopped protesting._

~*~

_Despite this Castiel wasn’t a fearful child. After all, old Zacharia Novak had better things to do than beating up his youngest son, and said son was usually left to his own devices. It helped that Castiel preferred hiding away in a corner in the library, reading dire tomes centuries old, rather than frolicking around outside, in which case the boy would’ve probably ended up being followed by several guards._

_Castiel’s childhood – anything but ideal as it was – went by in the blink of an eye, lending weight to the notion of how it never rains but it pours._

* * *

Dean presses the send button before slipping the phone back inside his pocket and waving over the waiter, who by now is probably gossiping about the alpha who is being stood up, on a Friday night no less. Five years ago Dean would’ve told the waiter who for and why he was waiting, probably coming off as even more desperate than if he’d actually been stood up, but these days it doesn’t really matter what strangers think of him. On the other hand, he doesn’t want to lose the table when Sam and Sarah are less than half an hour away and he figured ordering something would make the staff less likely to ask him to leave.

Five minutes later he’s enjoying a beer with a name he wouldn’t try to pronounce before he’d had more of them, discreetly looking around to see if the other patrons could provide some entertainment or if he should bring out the phone and try to beat the level of candy crush he’s stuck at.

Not surprisingly most of the tables seem to be occupied by couples, though there’re a few larger tables at the front of the room with what is clearly business people having decided to move their meetings out of their offices. But one table - hidden in a dark corner, the view obscured every time a waiter enters or exits the kitchen – keeps drawing his eyes.

At first Dean assumes it’s just another couple on a date, or maybe celebrating some anniversary but the longer he sits in his chair and his eyes keep going back to the table the more he thinks maybe that’s not the whole story.  
     As inconspicuous as possible he draws in a deep breath, confirming that that man whose face he can see is an alpha while the other’s an omega. It gives credit to the idea that they’re together but there’s something in their scents – especially the omega’s – that makes him pay closer attention to the scene.

All he can see of the omega is the ramrod straight line of his back and the contradictory way he seems to hunch in on himself as if he’s trying to appear smaller than he is. The dark suit jacket is well fitting though it’s clear it was bought off-the-rack, his neck is pale – Dean has a fleeting thought of how much he’d like to mark it – and his hair is either a really dark brown or black.  
     It is, however, the alpha who makes little alarm bells go off in Dean’s head. The man’s attractive, Dean will give him that, with his strong jaw and high cheek bones, lips that – though perhaps a little blood less – are full and inviting, his face clean shaven and his hair just long enough to grip and let curl around your fingers. 

Dean’s no stranger to his own designation and if he’d met the other at a bar he’d have at least considered hitting on him. Of course only as long as he didn’t look too closely at the man’s eyes. Their color’s a pale blue and they lack any warmth as he looks at the man sitting across from him. Dean’s trying to catch their conversation when a large hand lands on his shoulder and Sam is trying to both apologize for being late and taking Sarah’s coat, pulling out the chair for her and not deck the poor waiter who chose that exact moment to bring the menus.

He grins at his brother, stands to hug his sister-in-law letting his hand rest for a few seconds on her distended belly in greeting of his niece or nephew. In the flurry of their arrival he forgets about the pair in the corner and soon he’s listening to the story of how Sam fainted during Lamaze class (he’d forgotten to actually breathe during the exercise) and Dean’s mercilessly teasing him.  
     The waiter takes their order, brings their food and they’re talking about everything, making plans for getting the nursery done within the next few weeks. It’s not until Sarah gets up half way through her meal and makes her way slowly towards the restrooms with Sam’s eyes glued to her retreating form that Dean’s reminded of the people he was watching earlier.

The alpha’s leaning slightly forward, his arms resting on the table – Dean has a feeling he’s grabbed the omega’s hands in his - anger radiating from him though Dean can’t really tell if it’s directed at the omega or something else. He’s once again interrupted by Sam who’s finally realized that even if she’s seven months pregnant Sarah is fully capable of going to the restroom by herself, and Dean’s distracted for the rest of the meal.

~*~

There’s a bite to the wind that hadn’t been there when he arrived and Dean regrets not bringing his overcoat with him when he’d parked. By some miracle Sam has managed to get a spot near his beloved Impala, his Baby, and as such they’re making their way to the part of the lot furthest away.  
     Down here there’s almost no light, there’re a few lamp posts but somebody has smashed the bulbs and there’s only the faint light from the stars to guide their steps. Sarah has a firm grip on Sam’s arm and Dean has tilted his head to better hear what she’s saying over the rustle of leaves and the wind whistling between the parked cars.

A noise that doesn’t belong in a parking lot outside a popular restaurant has him stopping in his tracks, instantly alert and trying to pinpoint directionality as well as what the noise specifically was. Sam’s starting to say something but a hand on his arm makes him close his mouth before he’s spoken as much as a syllable. Dean doesn’t pay attention to how Sarah holds out her hand, silently asking for the car keys or how Sam hands them to her before following his brother. 

The second time the noise is accompanied by a muffled cry of pain and Dean can feel the way the shift rolls over him, his senses getting sharper, letting him see, hear and smell better than he did before. It doesn’t come as a surprise then when he sees the alpha from the dark corner in front of him. Out here Dean can smell how his anger is mixed with something that resembles lust though there are some notes to it he’s never smelled before, the scent burning his throat making him gag with how repulsive it is.

In front of the man, kneeling on the cracked asphalt is the omega. There’s a hand shaped bruise forming on his cheek, blood flowing from his nose and one eye is in the process of swelling shut. But the thing that tears the challenging roar from Dean’s throat is the overwhelming stench of the man’s fear and the resigned look in his eyes, as if the appearance of other people isn’t a reassurance that things will get better but rather a sign that things are going to get worse.

From there it’s mostly a blur of movements and vicious snarls, the only thing visible to the random spectator the brief glimpses of gleaming teeth and flashing eyes. It ends almost before it’s really begun, the other alpha running off into the night with a pained whimper and Dean’s fully human before the other’s even out of ear shot.

* * *

_Adolescence takes away Castiel’s final hope of ever being acknowledged as his father’s son._  
_He comes out of his first heat chained to a wall in the basement; starved and dried-up, his wrists and ankles open wounds where the chains have rubbed off his skin, and every muscle and joint aching in ways he didn’t know they could._

_When Zacharia finally deigns to unlock both the door and his chains, all Castiel wants is a bath and sleep for the next week. What he gets is a lecture followed by a new set of orders, essentially designed to make sure he’ll remain in the best condition as the merchandise he apparently is._

~*~

 _Most of the time he’s able to forget about it. He keeps hiding away in the library and stay away from everybody who walks through the front door._  
_He takes his meals either in the kitchen or the sanctuary of his own room unless his presence has been explicitly requested._

~*~

_Getting through his heats get easier; because even if he spends them behind lock and key and chained to that very same wall, they don’t last as long and he manages to remain somewhat lucid. By the time he’s eighteen he’s memorized some of his favorite books to have something to entertain him during those long, lonely days._

* * *

If anybody had bothered asking, Castiel would have pointed out that it probably wasn’t the best idea having him sit in a crowded restaurant a week before his heat was due. Of course it wasn’t as if his opinion mattered or as if his father wouldn’t have made him go mid-heat if he thought it would be worth the risk.  
     Which was why he didn’t waste his breath voicing his objections but simply put on the clothes he was given and made sure to be ready at six.

Castiel didn’t like restaurants. He could deal with the smells coming from the kitchen but combined with the scents of too many people gathered in too little room he couldn’t help feeling nauseous. Add to that the fact that the moon was nearing her fullest form, Castiel’s heat impending, the alpha across from him reminding him far too much of his brother and this was a disaster waiting to happen.  
     He would concede that some of his dislike for the setting most likely was due to the fact that he only ever got to step foot inside a place like this was when he was meeting the alpha of the week – which was mostly to distract himself from the fact that the alpha in question was nothing more than a potential buyer, someone his father thought could be convinced to pay a more or less obscene amount of money for an omega.

~*~

Castiel remembered once stumbling across a huge, yellowish book – at least a thousand pages long - describing how it was illegal to (among other things) sell people regardless of their designation. On the same shelf he’d found other books, significantly smaller and some in a less dry and complicated language than the first, describing how omegas could live on their own, could do things on their own like shopping and having jobs, how they had worth just like any alpha or beta on their own merit and not just with what they’d been granted.  
     For months Castiel had dared dream, had started counting the days for when he could leave his father’s house and become his own person, come out from under the yoke of his father’s antiquated ideas where his only purpose was to either bend or break under his alpha’s will and cater to any of said alpha’s needs.  
     His brother had found the books while Castiel was chained to the basement wall, and when he was let out he was no longer allowed free access to the library and from where he was lying on his bed he could see the pile of books his brother gleefully took a torch to. Castiel wasn’t entirely sure if the tears streaming down his face were from the pain of his welled up skin or the crushing knowledge that he would never be free.

And yet Castiel was, at heart, still an optimistic person. Sure, neither his father nor brother would ever see him as someone who mattered, would never care that he, too, had a voice and was perfectly capable of using it to talk about his thoughts or interests. But that didn’t mean that other alphas or betas would feel the same, and even if his hopes were dwindling as fast as Zacharia would find a new alpha with too much money to spare, Castiel kept hoping that one of them would turn out to possess just a small amount of decency.

~*~

With an internal sigh Castiel pulled himself from his depressing thoughts right back into the middle of the depressing reality that was a crowded restaurant, a dinner partner that he’d rather been without even knowing existing and the feeling of eyes boring into his back, alerting him to his brother’s presence, making sure Castiel stayed in line and the alpha didn’t do anything he hadn’t paid for. In all fairness the only thing Castiel appreciated about these happenings was that Zacharia would never tolerate an alpha touching Castiel in any way that could be interpreted as inappropriate.

The alpha’s endless stream of words is only barely paused by the reappearance of the waiter, who carefully puts down plates in front of them. With the sight of them any desperate hope that this one would be different flies straight out the window and Castiel just wants the evening to end and go home where he can be ignored.  
     While the alpha’s busy stuffing his face with a steak the size of his half of the table Castiel tries not to inhale to deeply. There’s no way he’ll be able to eat the contents of the bowl placed in front of him without causing a scene that could’ve been avoided entirely if the alpha had either asked what he’d want to eat or done him the courtesy of remembering that omega or not Castiel is as much a carnivore as the alpha himself, is as much _wolf_ as him, and as such feels the call of the moon just as keenly with the same need to shift, to run, for which he needs just as much – if not more – energy as an alpha.

The man’s almost done with his food before noticing that Castiel isn’t eating, his head snapping up, annoyance settling on his features and his hand shooting forward grabbing onto Castiel’s wrist, squeezing hard as he leans forward and says, in a low voice laced with anger and dark promises Castiel has heard too many times to not feel absolutely terrified by.

”You’ll pay for this, omega. I don’t tolerate waste.”

With that he lets go, finishes his meal and then signals for the waiter to bring the check. Once that’s taken care of he takes Castiel’s hand and practically drags him outside.

~*~

It’s cold outside, the first chill of autumn present in the wind that is gently blowing across the empty space of the parking lot. Castiel’s straining his ears for the tell-tale sound of his brother’s footfall rather than waste time trying to fight the alpha dragging him further away from the lights of the building they’ve just left.  
     Castiel’s instincts are screaming at him to either shut down in terror or fight back, not just being led like that lamb to slaughter farther into the darkness of the night; but Castiel has long since learnt that following his instincts only leads to pain and broken bones, not to mention that in the past, without fail, his brother has been there, to carry out Zacharia’s orders that nothing must happen to the precious merchandise, so he stumbles after the alpha focusing on his senses anticipating them to alert him of his brother’s presence.

Not until his back connects painfully with the steel frame of a car and the alpha stands so close Castiel can’t feel the cold of the wind on his front does he see his brother. He’s shrouded in darkness, barely fifteen feet away and not making any move to come closer; that’s when the voice finally makes it past the layers of behavior Castiel has been taught with the help of his father’s hands and belt, that’s when he tries to fight the alpha off, which he manages for all of five seconds due to the other’s surprise, only to be stopped by the all too familiar sting of a fist to his face.  
     The pain barely registers but the force of the blow has him on his knees, the feel of blood slowly soaking the material at the knees of his pants where the skin has broken upon impact with the asphalt. All of Castiel’s attention is on his brother, his mind racing trying to figure out why he doesn’t pull the alpha off of him and then he notices: How the pupils swallow the color of his brother’s glazed over eyes, the way his mouth is hanging open, lips shining with spit where he keeps wetting them with his tongue, the way his chest heaves as if he’s been running, the way his pants are more constricting than they were earlier this evening. If he hadn’t been so terrified right now Castiel would be amazed at how the repulsion manages to drown out the scents of not only his brother but also the alpha who is close enough that Castiel can taste his scent on his tongue.  
     For a brief moment the world narrows down to this: the way he hurts and bleeds, the way his brother is both so unrecognizable and so scarily familiar, the alpha too close to him. The bubble they’re caught in shatters when Castiel sees two strangers a second before a roar pierces the silence.

* * *

Releasing the shift is easy but Dean can still feel the way his wolf paces right beneath his skin. The smell of blood and pain coming from the omega has it fighting Dean’s command for it to draw back; it wants to run, to hunt the bastard who dared raise a hand against someone as precious as the owner of the heavenly scent slowly overpowering the smell of anything else.

It takes more effort than it should (even this close to the full moon his wolf shouldn’t be this unruly) but it’s still less than a minute after the fight when Dean can finally turn back around and get a good look of the omega of which he so far hasn’t seen much more than his back.  
     The only thing through Dean’s head is _blue_ and _mine_ , and then he’s suddenly staring up into one of Sam’s more spectacular bitch faces. Dean can see Sam’s mouth moving but he can’t focus on the words as a fresh wave of fear hits his nose and the wolf under his skin hangs its head in shame, a whine starting in its throat making it past Dean’s lips; apology and comfort wrapped in one note that he hopes the omega will understand.  
     When Sam turns his back at Dean still lying on the ground, noise starts filtering through again. He listens to Sam telling the omega their names and what they’re doing here, the acrid smell of fear growing less pronounced as Dean’s little brother manages to calm the man down and all of disappearing when Sarah suddenly shows up and tells Sam to get Dean to the car while she talks to the omega. Dean has no idea how she does it but she returns to the cars with the man walking on her right side half a step behind her. She tells him to get in the front seat of her car, walks around to the driver’s before rounding on her mate and brother-in-law telling them to come home in a few hours and then they’re gone.

~*~

Pulling into the driveway and parking behind his brother’s car, Dean lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Light spills out between the curtains and he can see the shadows moving, the flicker that indicates the tv is on and he’s at the door before Sam has unbuckled his seat belt. His hand is on the door handle but no matter how badly he wants to press down he remembers the smell of fear; a smell that was there partly because of _him_ , a smell he hopes never to be the cause of again, so he waits for Sam to unfold himself, climb out the car and close the door before locking up the Impala with his own key – it’s been five years since Sam and Sarah moved in together but Dean has never asked for his keys back – and make his way to his own front door. Then, and not a second sooner, does Dean’s hand press down and open the door, motioning for Sam to step over the threshold first, him following closely behind.  
     The omega is sitting in the armchair Dean usually claims for himself, a blanket draped around his lower body and a mug of what smells like coffee in his hands. Sarah’s sitting in one of the dining room chairs next to him, close enough that even at seven months she’ll be able to jump in front of him if need be; this time it doesn’t escape Dean’s attention how the omega tenses seeing him and Sam entering the living room. Sarah ignores them just keeps talking and Dean in return ignores her voice to stare at the man, wondering what his name might be.  
     Sarah doesn’t stop talking until both Dean and Sam takes a seat on the couch and the omega relaxes a tiny bit. She gently takes his hand and without looking away from him she says:

”Castiel,” and as if his name was all the wolf wanted it finally lays down, head on its front paws looking with rapt attention at the man but without trying to claw its way out into the open, “I’d like you to meet my mate, Sam, and his brother Dean.” Sarah pauses briefly before turning her head slightly. “Sam, Dean. This is Castiel, he’ll be staying for a few days. Sam, will you please get the guest room ready?.” There’s no point to answer and she’s already turned away again, launched into some story or another so Sam simply elbows his brother and within minutes they’ve cleared the guest room of Dean’s things, changed the beddings and found a clean tooth brush and towels for their new guest.

* * *

It’s the second morning before Dean hears Castiel’s voice for the first time. Dean’s far too old and too accustomed to his own bed to be able to sleep on a couch, which is why he’s up at the ass crack of dawn, sleepily blinking at the coffee maker hoping it will make it brew faster. His back hurts and there’s a cramp in his shin he can’t get rid of and none of that matters when the heat of another body is coming closer and a scent he’s only known for these few days, hours almost, drowns out that of the coffee brewing. The “good morning” that sounds like whiskey poured over gravel sends shivers down his spine and is far more effective waking him than coffee has ever been.

Castiel doesn’t seem to notice, his eyes seem closed as if he’s barely awake but his hand is steady and aim sure as he grabs first a mug from the cupboard to the left and then the pot half filled with freshly brewed coffee. Dean has his first religious experience at the age of twenty-five, standing in his brother’s kitchen with the early morning light streaming through the window, watching a man of which he knows nothing more than age and designation take a sip of coffee and the way his lips curl upwards in a small, barely there, smile that feels like thousand suns shining down at him and Dean unconsciously leans closer, wants to see what the coffee tastes like from those pink, slightly chapped lips framed by dark stubble.  
     He snaps out of it before Castiel can open his eyes, forces himself to take half a step backwards and pour coffee into his own cup, ignoring the way the wolf whines, urging him to lean back into the omega’s space.

* * *

Castiel has never felt so at peace; not even before his mother died has he felt so utterly safe in the presence of other people. He lies to himself, tells the wolf that it’s the woman, Sarah, which he should bestow the credit upon, but the wolf scoffs at him, keeps flashing its eyes and teeth at him before he admits that it’s the alpha – Dean – that makes him feel safe.  
     Of course he hadn’t known at first, but the instant the two men had stepped through the door there was no way to deny why he’d chosen the chair he had. The only reason he managed to fall asleep was the way the bed still smelled like Dean even with the new bedding. And now, with the faint light illuminating the man, making his tan skin glow and his eyes even greener than they’ve been at any other point in the short time they’ve known each other, Castiel wants so badly. What he isn’t exactly sure but it doesn’t change the fact that he does. Even his wolf’s getting restless, struggling against the confines of his mind, trying to get closer to Dean and it’s beginning to take far too much effort fighting against it. Before doing something he might regret Castiel takes his coffee mug and flees back to the room he’s sleeping in.

~*~

It’s hours later when there’s a knock on the door and Sarah’s voice asking him if he wants to come with them, because she’s got a doctor’s appointment and then they’re going shopping. He declines politely, an itch under his skin making him restless but not enough to want to brave the outside world even if he’s surprisingly unconcerned to the possibility of his father or brother hunting him down. Not that Castiel thinks they won’t but more that he can’t spare the energy to worry about it when the blood rushes in his veins and the wolf is struggling to get out. When the front door clicks shut he sighs, picks up his mug from earlier and makes his way towards the kitchen for a refill.  
     He never makes it that far. When Sarah had said _they were going_ Castiel had assumed she’d meant all three Winchesters but there, in the middle of the living room with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, Dean’s standing and the world comes to a sudden stop. The mug falls from his numb fingers and he distantly worries if it’ll break when hitting the floor before all thought leaves his head as a pair of hands loosens the damp fabric letting it fall to the floor. He makes a noise, the bastard child of a groan and a whine alerting the alpha to his presence; the man turning giving Castiel enough time to take in the sight of miles upon miles of naked skin, but all he can focus on is the patch of hair a few shades darker than the hair on Dean’s head, the flesh resting there, the way it seems to come alive the longer he stares unabashed.  
     He thinks he should be afraid, should shriek and cover his eyes or maybe run away, has a feeling that if it had been anybody but Dean standing in front of him right now he’d have done all of that and yet he doesn’t; he just keeps staring wondering if he should maybe move closer. In the end it’s the wolf that makes the decision. Taking control it pounces on the man who stares back as intently as Castiel, wraps itself around him and seals Castiel’s lips over Dean’s mouth.

Castiel has no idea how they make it from the living to the guest room nor does he particularly care; all he knows is the way their lips slide together, the feel of Dean’s tongue against his own as they chase each other playfully. The way Dean nips at his bottom lip and how he growls when Castiel hesitantly mimics him; how soft Dean’s hair feels in his right hand and how smooth his skin is where his left is stroking everything it can reach. Then there is of course the foreign press of flesh against his pajama covered ass which he ignores in favor of the taste, smell, feel of _Dean_ around him.  
     It's not until they reach the bed that their lips part long enough for them to heave in deep breaths of air, Castiel bouncing on the mattress where he's landed when Dean gently dropped him, the alpha standing at the foot of the bed taking everything in. For all that he's dressed in his pajama and Dean's wearing nothing Castiel feels naked and vulnerable (not scared though, not a single shred of doubt or uncertainty that the alpha would never do anything to hurt him) and of their own accord his hands come up in an attempt to cover himself. That causes Dean to move, lean forward and placing his hands on Castiel's shoulders, a single word passing his lips that makes Castiel still.

"Please." And it's a plea, Dean's voice desperate and low and Castiel is helpless in the face of it all so he simply nods and let's his hands fall back at his sides, letting Dean's eyes roam his body as the alpha pleases, repaying him the kindness in full.  
     Once he's looked his fill, trembling hands carefully start to unbutton the pajama shirt and at the last do they part the garment, the alpha's gaze almost a physical weight as they take in the sight of the pale skin laid bare before them. Once he’s looked his fill, trembling hands carefully start to unbutton the pajama shirt and not until they reach the last one do they part the garment, the alpha’s gaze an almost physical weight as they take in the sight of pale skin laid bare before them.

Castiel feels like he’s drowning with it. The laser-like focus of Dean’s green eyes, the way his hands ignite fires on Castiel’s skin only to soothe them into something less destructive when they make their way back across his skin. It feels as if his awareness has expanded to take in the entirety of the universe, and yet it’s all consumed by the naked man hovering above him.  
     Under different circumstances Castiel would be embarrassed of the way his body’s reacting to the alpha. Would feel mortified at the damp patches in his underwear, the way his dick fills with blood and his hole aches with emptiness. He doesn’t even feel these things during his heats anymore, had thought he would never get to experience it again, much less _want_ it. But he does, wants it so badly he doesn’t have to fight his wolf anymore, can feel it withdrawing to its usual place inside him, far enough not to interfere with Castiel’s control but close enough that he can draw on its instincts if he doubts his own.

Emboldened by his own need Castiel pushes Dean’s hands away and before the alpha can get the wrong idea he sits, letting his own hands travel the expanse of tan freckled skin.  
     He starts slow, first going from knee to thigh, marveling at the softness of the skin and the coarseness of the sparse hair. He lets his eyes trail his hands, though he doesn’t miss the way the cock hanging in front of him twitches whenever he brushes too close to his groin or against somewhere sensitive.  
     He moves on to Dean’s stomach, fingers toying with his happy trail ghosting over his abs and sides. The choked of laugh telling him the other’s ticklish and he does it again only to be rewarded by that same sound. He halfway expects a slap to the face and yet can’t seem to stop himself, fingers digging mercilessly into that patch of skin until Dean finally grabs his hands in his, bringing them to his lips and gently kissing his knuckles. When he let’s go he places his own on the waistband of Castiel’s pants, silently asking permission.  
Castiel gulps nervously and nods.

If anybody had told Dean that today was going to be the day he got to see Castiel naked he’d’ve laughed in their face, possibly even punched them for suggesting it in the first place. The omega might’ve not been willing to talk to either him nor Sam, but Sarah had managed to get enough out of him to furiously demand Sam do something. Not that Dean has any idea what that might entail – lawyer speak has never been a language he could be bothered to learn – but he’d agreed with Sarah and had been ready to fight his own brother if Sam had refused to at least try. But being the genius that his baby brother is, he’d spent a few hours on the phone getting the ball rolling, assuring both his wife and his equally agitated brother that everything would be fine.  
     Right now though, Dean couldn’t really be expected to spare the brain cells to worry about legal mumbo jumbo or whatever, not when he had Castiel’s hands on his skin, not with the possibility of seeing every last inch of the man once he figured out how to make his hands move and get rid of the last piece of clothing. In the end his patience runs out and he lets his claws tear through the fabric, mindful of not nicking the skin it’s covering. The sight almost makes him weep, that’s how beautiful Castiel is.

Castiel’s skin looks almost like marble, his legs are corded with muscle and dusted with hair that’s surprisingly light, considering the rest is almost black. Dean’s never considered himself especially drawn to knees, but if he’d had as much as a single poetic bone in his body he would spend months writing odes to Castiel’s; and that doesn’t even account for his _thighs_.  
     When he looks up he can see the blush in Castiel’s cheeks, can see where it has spread all the way to his chest, his hands twitching where they’re laying at his sides as if they want to cover him from Dean’s eyes, and yet all his scent reveals is lust, the air thick with the smell of precum and slick, and finally Dean lets himself look at Castiel’s cock. Takes in the way it stands proudly in a nest of black curls, the length and thickness of it, how it’s so much darker than the rest of Castiel’s skin.  
     Want pools in the pit of Dean’s stomach, saliva gathering in his mouth, and as soon as the thought is born, Dean’s mouth is halfway down the shaft.  
     The taste exploding on his taste buds is almost enough to have him coming then and there, his eyes rolling into the back of his head both in pleasure and in an effort to stave off his impending orgasm. 

Castiel has spent most of his life being taught that he doesn’t matter, that nobody would ever concern themselves with neither his comfort nor his pleasure. The expectations placed upon him has always been that he should serve to bring this (and whatever else) to his alpha, and as such he can’t help the surprised shout punched from him when his dick’s suddenly engulfed in wet heat. His first thought is to fight it, Dean shouldn’t be doing _this_ to him, should either demand it of Castiel or be otherwise buried balls deep in Castiel’s body. The look in those green eyes when he dares look into them convinces him to stay still.  
     Where earlier his mind felt like it expanded beyond belief, now it narrows down, all there is this time is the tongue swirling his burning flesh, the saliva dripping down his shaft, wetting his pubic hair and slides down his sac before mixing with his slick. Dean’s hands a grounding presence where they’re holding onto his hips, not restriction in the grip as he starts thrusting his hips, completely unaware of the action but lost in the feel of the head of his dick hitting the back of Dean’s throat, the way Dean’s voice vibrates through him whenever the alpha makes any kind of sound.  
     Castiel wonders if maybe he died and this is some kind of heaven before his mind whites out, his back arches and he erupts down Dean’s throat. It’s glorious and leaves no room for worries about ‘consequences’ or ‘punishment’.

__

Afterwards, when he's able to open his eyes (even if he can only blink stupidly at the ceiling) and he's trying to catch his breath, the reality of what he's just done slams into him, have him go from sleepily satedness to full blown panic between one breath and the next. Instantly he's boxed in by a warm body, soothing noises whispered into his ear for who knows how long. When Castiel realizes that not only does Dean not sound angry but his scent is filled with nothing but worry does he relax in the gentle hold.  
     Once he does Dean hides his face in Castiel's neck, a sigh of contentment tickling the thin skin followed by a vigorous tongue bath. The alpha nips and lick whatever skin he can get to without having to move too much and the insistent pressure to Castiel's lower stomach reminds him he still has obligations to fill, so he reaches out tries to get his hands between their bodies but each attempt is shrugged off with a low growl, eventually convincing him that for now laying back and _feel_ is perfectly all right.

At some point Dean either tires of - or is satisfied with the state of - his neck, lifts his head enough that Castiel can see how the forest green of his eyes is gone, swallowed by the blown out pupils, and he finally understands, his wolf rumbling in a way Castiel's fully aware means ' _finally_ the dumb human gets it.' Dean doesn't seem to understand that Castiel's having an epiphany, though, and proceeds to lean in, pressing his lips to Castiel's. It's scorching, burns even hotter when Dean's tongue knocks against his lips, coaxing them apart, inclining Castiel's for a dance. It's wonderfully simple. Nothing more than the exchange of breath and saliva, and if it hadn't been for his body choosing that moment to remind him it's still there Castiel has no doubt he would've been perfectly content to do this the rest of his life. However, the feel where his once again hardening dick is brushing against Dean's and the way his hole clenches insistently around nothing, is distracting and he squirms in discomfort.  
     It's cold when Dean climbs off of him, his hands not enough to make up for it when they urge him to roll onto his stomach. But it feels like what he's expected all along, and he's ready for it, for the pain he's always been told is inevitable and that he'll just have to grin and bear. He finds it odd when the alpha rather than blanket him again settles between his spread legs, but when nothing happens curiosity gets the better of him and he turns his head just in time to see Dean's hands reach out to part his cheeks, the way his nostrils flare to take in the smell of Castiel's slick before bending his head and dive straight in.  
     This time he manages to conceal his surprise better, relaxes into it almost instantly and simply concentrates on the sensations. Dean's tongue is rough, his stubble itch against the thin skin and once his tongue stops laving at the skin, stops circling his rim and finally breaches him. Castiel is right there with him; his lips pressing closer, trying to follow the rhythm set by Dean. He doesn't even notice the first finger, slipping in alongside the slick muscle. The second adds new sensations, the way Dean's carefully pulling at his rim, stretching him all the while steadily going deeper. The third finger takes the place of Dean's tongue, at which point Dean starts peppering his cheeks, the small of his back, the top of his thighs with kisses, throws in a small bite here and there to the fleshier parts of Castiel's ass.  
     Castiel gives up counting when Dean hits something that has his entire body lightning up, his mouth falls open to emit a loud, keening whine, that makes Dean keep going, relentlessly pushing against whatever it is. And Castiel is standing at the precipice again, anxious to topple over but needing that final push, which comes in the form of Dean's other hand wrapping around his weeping dick - he's dimly aware he's on his knees, but has no idea how or when that happened. This time he comes silently, bonelessly flopping down onto the wet spot while riding out the aftershocks of his orgasm. When he returns to reality it's to the sound of skin against skin followed by the splatter of something cool on his cheeks and lower back.  
     Castiel has read about it, has always found the thought of it vaguely disgusting, but now - with his wolf running in circles and yipping joyously, the happy rumbling from the man behind him – it feels right, like something he hopes is going to happen again, maybe even getting to return the favor at some point, if he’d ever dare taking such liberties, though he’s beginning to think that maybe Dean won’t see it as such, might even eagerly welcome it should Castiel treat him to the same. But right now, all loose limbed and lethargic he can’t gather his thoughts enough to ask, his eyes drooping with fatigue and the last thing he remembers before sleep claims him is the awestruck voice whispering one single word in his ear: _mate_. 

* * *

Castiel has never been allowed to run during the full moon, and Dean's face had done something complicated when he'd mentioned it - anger had been prominent, but there had been other emotions Castiel couldn't identify with the speed they vanished - and decided that the two of them would rectify it immediately.  
     Which is why they're sitting in awkward silence in Dean's Baby less than 12 hours after waking up stuck together, Castiel practically fleeing for the bathroom unable to look the alpha in the eyes when thoughts of what they'd done was playing in his mind in full technicolor. He was very grateful that both Sam and Sarah didn't seem to notice, unaware that Dean had told both of them to keep quiet. Despite the awkwardness Castiel has to admit, he's looking forward to tonight. His wolf pacing restlessly under his skin, anxious in a way it has never been before and Castiel himself just excited at the prospect of running as fast and far as he wants.  
     He's out the door before the engine's off, breathing in huge gulps of air, his face already contorted in half shift. When he sees the sand colored wolf there's no hesitation and he's on all fours shooting off in between the trees perfectly able to hear the other trying to catch up. Dean's wolf is fast, but Castiel's is faster as it weaves its way through the trees, beneath the undergrowth, jumping over fallen logs before he stops in a clearing, leans back his head and _howls_ announcing his joy to the world. Dean tackles him and they launch into a playful fight, nipping at each other while rolling around neither getting the upper hand, before they settle next to each other, simply content with the other's closeness and warmth.

For two men who are so close to each other in height it comes as a surprise to Dean when he realizes that Castiel's wolf is almost the same size as Sarah's. It doesn't really matter because as soon as the black canine runs past him and Dean catches a whiff of its scent - so much more potent in this form that Dean can even smell how close Castiel is to his heat, something that he couldn't while he was confined to his human senses - all he can think is how he needs to _chase_ and _claim_.  
     Castiel's howl brings him back to his senses and rather than pounce on the omega Dean tackles him the same way he would his brother, holding back his strength a bit, not wanting to either scare or hurt the other. They roll around in a way Dean and Sam used to do when they were younger, the way pups usually scuffle with each other, and when they finally tiredly collapse next to each other on the soft grass and moss covering the forest floor Dean realizes how much he's missed this and already planning for the next many full moons, excited for when Sammy, Sarah and the baby can go with them, too.

They nap for a few hours, letting the sounds of the forest and the closeness of another wolf wash over them, helping them to relax. It's Castiel who rises first, his wolf deciding that lazing about is all fine and dandy but something it can do anytime, whereas this might be its only chance at running freely through the night. The thought's barely there before Castiel's up and running, answering the questioning bark from the alpha with one that simply translates to 'catch me if you can'.  
     It's the closest Castiel has ever come to challenge an alpha and for a split second fear puts its clammy hands on his intestines, squeezing hard and preventing him from moving. Carefully he watches the alpha roll to its feet, stretching languidly, showing of its fangs with a wide yawn before crouching, its tail wagging and relief pours through him, emboldens him enough to jump forward and let his tongue sweep over Dean's muzzle before turning and shoot off like an arrow. Dean's surprise at the action wins him a few precious seconds that he plans to use to their fullest even as he runs aimlessly through the darkness.

Even as he's running away from the alpha the wolf is careful not to get too far ahead, lest the other would give up the chase before he's ready for the game to end. Vaguely, Castiel realizes that it might not be a game entirely, but whatever else it might be doesn't seem to worry his wolf and so Castiel lets the thought go and enjoys it. He can hear the sounds of prey can smell them in the wind but for now he doesn't care, his belly still full from the meal they had before driving here, so he steers towards the sound of running water, suddenly eager for a bath.  
     It’s nothing more than a small stream, barely enough to cover his paws, but Castiel’s enjoying it nevertheless; so much in fact that he doesn’t hear the crack of a branch breaking where someone steps on it, doesn’t notice the familiar scents before two wolves descends on him and it’s only a stroke of luck that he twists when the grey one lunges, thus avoiding it landing on his back and just brushing his side. The spotted one tries the same move but even startled Castiel still has speed and agility on his side especially when he lets go of the reins, letting the wolf take control entirely, relying on its instincts.  
     He barks once, a loud noise to alert the alpha that he’s coming and could use some help; there’s no answering sound but the wolf knows better than to worry, has no doubt that the other’s keeping quiet to sneak up on their enemy once he lures them closer.

~*~

Once the moon sinks beneath the horizon the wolf relinquishes control back to Castiel. At first he’s disoriented, not sure what has happened or where he is as he looks around seeing nothing but trees and ferns and whatnot. Then his gaze lands on an unmoving body with tan, freckled skin and for a second his heart almost stops as fear seizes him. He’s across the clearing kneeling besides Dean faster than he can decide to do so, his hands on Dean’s body desperately searching for a pulse when he hears the steady _thump, thump, thump_ of his heart. He sits more comfortably and then carefully pulls Dean’s upper body onto his lap, gently stroking the alpha’s hair and face, reassuring both himself and Dean that everything is all right.  
      Waiting for the other to regain consciousness he looks around a little more closely, notices the broken branches, disturbed dirt and the red spots on the leaves. Further away, hidden in the shadows, are the bodies of the two wolves who’d attacked them last night. Castiel tries to be sad, tries to grieve the loss of his remaining family, but all there is, is the all-consuming relief that he’s free and that Dean’s okay, even if he takes forever to wake up again.

Castiel tightens his arms a little around Dean and lets his eyes fall closed, going over everything that has happened in the last few days. In the quiet of the early morning with most animals staying at a safe distance due to the smell of _blood_ and _predator_ Castiel has the time to put his jumbled thoughts into some kind of order. He doesn’t even realize he’s crying before something’s brushing against the skin under his eye; startled he opens them, looking into Dean’s worried gaze and he can’t help it, he has to smile, his cheeks almost instantly hurting from the unaccustomed action even if it only widens when the worry fades from Dean’s eyes and his lips stretch in an answering smile.  
     And it’s just so easy to bend over, slot his mouth over Dean’s in a gentle press of lips against lips. To deepen the kiss once Dean opens his mouth, everything lost to the feel of teeth and tongue. Hands touching wherever they can reach, not with any real purpose other than to make sure the other isn’t hurt, and neither making a move for where they’re both growing with need.

It’s Dean who finally breaks the kiss, his hands framing Castiel’s face both their chests heaving as they’re practically gasping for air. They don’t speak just gets up and hand in hand make their way towards the car, neither of them sparing as much as a glance behind them, both only having eyes for the road ahead.

_**~Epilogue~** _

(An undisclosed amount of time later)

Sometimes Castiel thinks there are glaciers moving faster than his relationship with Dean. It’s not that he doesn’t understand why the alpha’s holding back but on the other hand he’s not some dainty little flower who needs to be sheltered from even the slightest breeze.

There hadn’t really been any legal consequences, enough evidence to back up Dean’s claim of a challenge ending in the deaths of Castiel’s father and brother. The police had questioned Castiel for far longer than either Dean, Sam or Sarah, had even guarantied him protection and a new identity if he were to tell them that Dean hadn’t acted on a challenge. Castiel had been so surprised that he’d just looked at them for a few minutes before he’d started laughing. He’d barely been able to stop long enough to convince the detectives that there had been a challenge and he wasn’t afraid of Dean, quite the opposite actually.

Then Sarah had gone into labor and after 20 hours she (and Sam) had finally welcomed their tiny daughter to the world. Dean and Castiel, by then living together in Dean’s house but not yet sharing neither bed nor room, had been her godparents when she was baptized Eloise Jean Winchester. They’d been babysitting on the rare occasions where Sam and Sarah could be persuaded to give her up for a few hours.

Castiel had been told he was the sole heir to the Novak estate, news to which Dean had reacted by putting him in his car and driven into the city to meet with a lawyer in a fancy office that hadn’t really matched her bubbling personality. Dean had told her what he expected to happen, she had kicked him out of her office and then spent four hours talking with Castiel. In the end he had complied with Dean’s wishes and made Miss Bradbury draw up the documents that would make sure that nobody – least of all Dean – could ever touch Castiel’s money. He did ask her to make it easy for him to change it if he ever felt like it, to which she agreed after a little persuasion. He moved into Dean’s, _their_ , bedroom that night, telling the alpha it was about time.

* * *

Castiel would admit that he probably didn’t have the best sense of timing. Which would explain why he thought it was a good idea to choose the weekly dinner at Sarah and Sam’s house – in the middle of the roast Sam had made no less – to say in all seriousness:

”I want to spend my heat with you.” And then continuing eating as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened, not really noticing the silence around the table. That also meant he didn’t see the smirk on Sarah’s face as she reached out her hand nor the pout on Sam’s as he placed a bill in it, however, he did hear the way Dean was sputtering, trying to come up with an answer, which had him look up again.

”You said so yourself; we’re mates. And I’m finally ready to admit that,” Castiel’s voice turned pleading, “if you don’t want it, don’t want me, I have to move out. I can’t” but whatever Castiel couldn’t was cut off as Dean was already stealing his breath away, desperately kissing him as if he was starving and Castiel was an all-you-can-eat buffet; the rest of the evening was understandably cut short, Dean driving home a bit faster than he normally would.

~*~

Two days later Dean opens the door and the scent of Castiel’s heat almost has a physical presence, forces him to fight for every step towards the bedroom. The air is thick with the spicy-sweet scent of slick and the salty tang of precum, quickly making Dean’s pants unpleasantly tight in certain places. The door is closed and it takes an eternity to push it open, though it’s worth it when he spots his mate.  
     Castiel is naked, his pale skin almost white against the dark sheets; his feet planted firmly on the mattress and legs spread in blatant invitation, showing of his glistening hole; the swaying sac drawing Dean’s gaze to his weeping length. There’s a blush starting at Castiel’s cheekbones spreading all the way down his throat, over his clavicle to the rosy nipples hardening under Dean’s gaze. The blush stops right below Castiel’s heart, making his stomach look even whiter and more vulnerable in contrast to the dark hair making a path from his belly button to his groin.  
     Then there are the noises; a high pitched whine of an omega begging for his alpha coupled with the low groans as Castiel squirms in search of contact while simultaneously trying to keep still. Dean can’t help but preen when the thought hits him that Castiel acts like this because of him, Dean’s the reason there’s a spot on the sheets growing both darker and bigger. Unable to keep his eyes off of Castiel he raises shaking hands to take off his own clothes, none of his usual grace as he has to give up on his socks, unable to keep his balance long enough to get them off and when he finally collapses on top of the omega it feels like finally coming home.

Dean starts nipping at Castiel’s jaw and chin, moving with the blush licking the warmth off of Castiel’s skin all the way to the first of the pink nubs. He seals his mouth over it, laves at it with his tongue cataloguing the way it hardens further at his ministrations, the sounds it draws from Castiel’s throat and the way his cock twitch against Dean’s. He treats the other the same way though he’s a little disappointed to notice it’s not as sensitive as its neighbor. Doesn’t stop him devoting all of his concentration to them, at least until Castiel’s making desperate noises, asking Dean to move things along.  
     Dean snakes a hand between them, letting it gently pet the skin it passes as at makes its way down and between Castiel’s legs until it rests on the taint, his thumb circling the rim gathering the wetness pooling there. Then he simply lets the pad of his thumb rest against Castiel’s hole, gently applying pressure until the omega relaxes completely and the digit slips inside; he’s rewarded by a surprised gasp and a tentative push downwards, Castiel trying to get him deeper. It’s not long before Castiel is practically riding his hand, Dean matching his rhythm making sure to hit the other’s prostate on every inwards thrust and three fingers in Castiel’s back arches and he clamps down painting his groin and stomach in white; Dean doesn’t let up, keeps scissoring his fingers to make sure Castiel’s properly stretched while moving to whisper sweet nothings in Castiel’s ear.

When Dean finally removes his hand Castiel’s eyes are unfocused and he’s come three more times. It doesn’t stop the whine of displeasure when he’s left empty, his hole gaping obscenely where Dean’s been vigorously stretching him, but he still goes willingly when Dean indicates he should get on his hands and knees.  
     He takes a few seconds to just enjoy the sight before lining up. He drags his cock up and down the crack of Castiel’s ass a few times, mixing the omega’s slick and his own precum making sure to smear some over Castiel’s balls and cock as well as coating his own in it. Unintelligible words spilling from Castiel’s lips, only a few _fuck_ s, _please_ s and _alpha_ s possible to decipher as actual words.  
     When the head of his cock catches on Castiel’s rim Dean decides to stop teasing and starts to push inside. He intends to go slowly but as soon as the head is sheathed in Castiel’s welcoming warmth it’s impossible to hold back and with a cry he bottoms out in one smooth move. He opens his mouth to apologize when Castiel surprises him with a sharp thrust, wordlessly telling him everything is okay and to just move.

By now Dean feels as if he’s been on edge for days, feels like all it’ll take is a breeze and yet he keeps pulling out and pushing back inside, relishing the firm grip when Castiel clenches down as if he won’t let the alpha get away, relishing the way he matches Dean’s rhythm even as he starts going faster and faster still.  
     Black fur sprouts on Castiel’s skin and the world is getting a red glow that indicates Dean isn’t entirely human shaped either and still they keep going, the bed moving with them as it slams against the wall and still not managing to drown out the moans. At long last it becomes increasingly more difficult moving his shaft in and out of Castiel, the base expanding gradually until finally locking them together and Dean’s just barely fitting his mouth at the meaty part of Castiel’s shoulder where it curves into the neck and bite down before coming so hard the man below him is pushed forward a few inches.  
     He’s barely begun before his knot is being brutally squeezed and Castiel is tumbling over the precipice alongside him. By now the sheer number of orgasms has taken their toll on him and soon he collapses onto the bed, the only thing preventing him from hurting himself the tight grip Dean has on his hips, keeping Castiel’s ass up and on level with his own pelvis; Dean already knows that by the time he deflates Castiel is most likely ready to go again.

The fifth time they’re tied together Castiel’s eyes are focused and he’s capable of actual speech again. Or, he would be if he hadn’t sunk his fangs into Dean’s shoulder the instant the alpha had started coming, giving him a bite to match his own. However much Dean has enjoyed spending Castiel’s heat in bed, his even more excited for it to be over so they can go out and show off their matching bites. 

**_The End_ **


End file.
